Hopes and Fears
by Lunar1
Summary: A parasitic lifeform of an entirely different nature to those SG1 know so well threatens the life of Carter and O'Neill. Set season 8, so possibility of SPOILERS
1. Reoffender

Cassie was lounging, indolent on Carter's large and comfortable sofa when she heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway outside, preceding the clonk of a car door. Dropping the remote she had been using to flick through the television channels she poked her head over the back of the chair to watch her guardian enter their home.

Carter was humming under her breath, obviously happy about something. "Hi Cass!" she said, smiling at her.

"Hi Sam," Cassie returned, smiling back.

"Uh," Sam said, a troubled look crossing her countenance suddenly, "Um, Pete's asked me to go out with him this evening... You... You don't mind going over to the Gen-I mean Jack's, do you?"

Cassie smiled more broadly. "Jack's got a date," she informed Carter, "But I can always go and crash around Sofia's."

"Sofia's parents won't mind?" Carter checked, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Sam," Cassie said, almost benevolently, chiding Sam gently for not understanding the unwritten rules of being seventeen and best friends, "Of course not."

"Well, you don't have to go... I can always cancel..."

"For cryin' out loud, just go and get ready will you? Enjoy yourself for once!" Cassie returned, leaping off the sofa and thumping her way up the stairs to pack her overnight bag.

Carter stood for a moment, torn between amusement and guilt. "You're spending too much time with Jack!" she yelled up the stairs.

Cassie's reply was indistinct as Carter went into the kitchen to make herself a drink. After Janet's death she had been more than willing to take in the now twice orphaned teenager; but she was prepared to admit that suddenly entering parenthood at the age of thirty-six was unsettling, and damaging to her already almost non existent social life.

If Cassie wasn't here, well, she was sure Pete would have moved in by now. As it was, Cassie was shuffled between herself and O'Neill (named by Janet in her will as Cassie's other legal guardian) in an attempt to give the teenager some stability and still allow Carter and O'Neill a small amount of private time. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but Cassie had made it clear she was perfectly happy with it, and with her leaving for college in a matter of months now rather than years it didn't have to be permanent.

* * *

Carter fought her way to the crowded bar as Pete attempted to bully some other unsuspecting patron of the establishment into relinquishing two seats. She ordered her drinks from the extremely harassed barman and regarded herself critically in the bar-mirror as he hurried to get them. Not too bad, she thought, scrutinising the reflection.

"A bud and a red wine," said an all too familiar, deep voice somewhere to her right.

She turned and nearly squeaked. Jack O'Neill was stood right next to her, looking away. Dressed in jeans and a white shirt she felt her stomach contract for a brief second despite herself. Scolding herself mentally she tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned, scowling, and smiled when he realised who it was. "Carter! Didn't expect to see you here."

She shrugged. "Pete and me were in the restaurant over the road and we thought... you know..."

He regarded her for a moment, his brown eyes softening. Something like regret turned down the corners of his mouth. The moment passed and he smiled again, a slightly brittle grin. "You haven't met Julia, have you?"

He leaned backwards, his hand touching the waist of his companion. She turned and Sam blinked. The woman was perhaps a little older than herself, judging by the hand that pushed the dangerously-close-to-falling strap of her top back and the fine lines around her eyes, but she was glamourous in an effortlessly natural way; the sort of woman that makes others mutter darkly when they pass. She was a brunette, her hair probably dyed but it made little difference, with liquid blue eyes very much like Carter's own. Her nails were short but brightly painted, her make up understated but carefully applied.

"Sam Carter?" Julia asked, smiling with a mouthful of extremely white teeth. She had a pleasant voice, light for a woman of her age without seeming girlish.

"Uh, pleased to meet you," Carter said, forcing a smile in return and extending her hand. They shook, Carter feeling a soft palm under her own and cursing her gun-calloused, weathered equivalent.

She'd known the General was seeing someone, sure. But, in much the same way Pete was a hastily asked and often forgotten topic of conversation when they were on base, so was Julia.

The barman had located her drinks, providing her with an escape route she craved without really knowing why. "See you Monday," she said to O'Neill who nodded his goodbye.

"Someone you know?" Pete asked as she returned to the table he'd somehow obtained. His tone was mild but underneath there was the suggestion of suspicion, maybe only in her own guilty mind but enough to make her annoyed.

"Just General O'Neill and his date. From work," she replied a little shortly.

"Oh," he said, still hatefully calm. She gave herself a mental shake. She was, she had to admit if only to herself, a little jealous of the woman now standing with O'Neill's tanned arm around her thin waist. Which was ridiculous, she told herself firmly, she had no right to be jealous when her own date was sat right here, his feet bumping against hers under their table.

She gave him a kiss, for her benefit or his, she wasn't sure. Perhaps for O'Neill's. She found herself glancing over her shoulder, just to see if he was still there.

He was pulling away from Julia, obviously having just kissed her. She looked ridiculously coy, eyelashes fluttering as she looked downwards at the floor. Blushing with a mixture of shame and anger Carter turned back to Pete, her stomach boiling with a nameless emotion.

No, not nameless.

Just an emotion she refused to put a name _to_ because naming it would be acknowledging it and she wasn't prepared to do that.

Not yet.

Telling herself again that she was_ not_ going to spend an evening looking over her shoulder she took a sip of her drink.

Someone brushed against her shoulder and her head snapped round, somehow expecting it to be-

-someone other than the young man walking away from her towards another table. O'Neill and Julia were still deep in conversation.... she was looking at them again.

Damn!

"So, had a good week?" Pete asked, putting down his own beer and entwining his fingers with hers. She tried to focus on the warmth engulfing her hand, watching their fingers rather than his face.

"Not too bad," she confessed, "Saved the world a few times. You know the drill."

Actually, it had been a pretty boring week. SG-1 were base-bound thanks to a shoulder injury Daniel had picked up on P6X-891and she had spent a depressingly large amount of time in the laboratory, running tests on some interesting technology she had been itching to experiment with, but had in actuality proved to be deadly dull.

In fact the highlight of her week had been General O'Neill turning up at her lab, just like he used, hand behind his back and a playful grin lingering around his mouth.

_"Watcha doin'?"_

_She smiled._

_"What you ordered me to do sir."_

_He bought his hands around form behind his back. He was holding out a cup of blue jello and a spoon. "Saved you something from lunch," he explained, "As Teal'c told me you haven't actually left the lab since six this morning and you spent last night on base having worked till two the previous day." There was a bite of warning in his tone and she sighed. "What's so interesting, anyway?" he asked._

_"Nothing," she confessed, "Just... experiments don't run nine to five..."_

_"Take a break," he said, "I'll make that an order. Eat the jello." His grin widened and she found herself returning it, putting her screwdriver down and picking up the spoon instead. She leaned on the edge of the table next to him. He watched her eat unashamedly, his face now impassive but eyes dancing with mirth._

_"Was there something you wanted?" she asked, as she unashamedly scraped the bottom of the cup for the last scrap of blue gelatin. _

_He shrugged. "I haven't wandered down this way for a while," he explained, "Just though, you know..." He was starting to look uncomfortable, hands straying from his pockets to the various articles scatted on the tables._

_"I wouldn't touch that one," she warned and he dropped it hurriedly. "It's delicate."_

_He had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "Sorry."_

_"Only joking."_

_He gave her a look that made her smile and squirm at the same time. "You're a tease Carter."_

"Sam?"

She snapped back to reality. "Sorry Pete. Miles away."

"I can see that," he said, humour touching his eyes and mouth, "No doubt it's classified and you can't talk to me about it?"

She shrugged. "You know how it is."

He nodded, looking away and taking another swig of his drink. "So, you want to ditch this crowd and...?" His raised eyebrow asked the question he didn't voice.

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry Pete but... Cassie."

She didn't know why she lied, only that she felt nauseous with the guilt as his face softened, eyes darkening. "Of course. I understand. The poor kid..."

Pete liked Cassie and made no secret of it, something Carter was both glad of and slightly unsettled by. His reaction only compounded the misery she was feeling at having lied. She didn't know why, or rather she wasn't willing to _admit _why, but she needed to be alone.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Jack and Julia- even their names seemed to fit well together- had gone somewhere. Presumably together.

Her stomach clenched again and she downed the rest of her drink in one angry gulp.


	2. Your Eyes Open

Cassie finally returned to Chez Carter at eleven o'clock the next morning. "Morning!" she called cheerfully, giving her guardian plenty of time to hide any strangers who might possibly have slept the night...

To Cassie's mild disappointment Carter was in the kitchen, apparently alone.

"No Pete?" she asked, just to make sure.

Carter shook her head. On closer inspection Cassie noticed dark circles around suspiciously red and puffy eyes, unusually clouded.

Cassie's bag hit the floor. "You haven't split up have you?"

"No!" Carter replied, a little too sharply, "No."

"Sam, what's the matter?" Cassie asked, motioning for the older woman to sit down on the sofa in the adjoining room.

Sighing, Carter complied with her order, plonking herself down on the chair. Cassie noted an empty cup of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream (Chocolate Cookie flavour) and a Hershey wrapper on the coffee table. If Carter was seeking comfort in food things _must_ be bad.

"Nothing's the matter," Carter lied, badly, "How was your night?"

"I stayed up too late watching old films and getting high on sugar," Cassie answered honestly, "At two o'clock in the morning I became convinced, along with Sofia, that the Yakult Bacteria Man was the most attractive man in the world. So a pretty normal night in really."

"Good," said Carter, obviously not listening.

"What happened?" Cassie asked, sounding heart-wrenchingly like her mother used to, not so long ago, when having conversations of a similar nature with Carter.

"Nothing," she repeated, with a weak watery smile. "What do you fancy for dinner?"

"Did you bump into Jack and Julia?" Cassie said casually, looking at her nails in a disinterested kind of way.

Carter froze, immediately giving herself away. _How could she know?_

"Yeah," she admitted, "Julia looks ...nice."

"You're still in love with Jack, aren't you?"

Carter frowned, a note of warning in her voice. "Cassie..."

"I know you have feelings for each other," Cassie said as if in explanation. "It's obvious, however professional you try to be."

Carter closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that had never really gone away since last night. This was perhaps the most humiliating moment of her life. A seventeen year old girl declared the feelings she worked _so damn hard_ to hide from everyone, not least herself, were _obvious._

"And you have feelings for Pete," Cassie continued. "And it's cool at work, 'cos you don't have to think about Pete because he isn't there, and it's cool when you're with Pete 'cos Jack isn't there and when you're with them on their own, all you can think of is that one man. And then suddenly you're confronted with them both in the same scenario and you don't know what to feel, except that you want to run away and hide and maybe become a nun."

"Become a nun?" Carter laughed, tears now trickling down her cheeks.

"Sam, do you think you're the first woman in the world who's found herself in love with two men?"

"I'm not-" Carter met Cassie's gaze and realisation dawned. "When?" she asked hoarsely.

Cassie shrugged her shoulders again. "For the last three years. He's just, y'know, a guy in my English class. He's dating someone else and he doesn't even know I exist. So I know we can't be together, and so I date other guys and live my life and generally feel really great... until English."

Carter enveloped Cassie in an unselfconscious hug. "I feel so _stupid_!"

"It _is_ stupid. But we're only human."

* * *

O'Neill woke up and rolled over, at once enjoying and lamenting the emptiness of his bedroom. Stretching out under the covers he waited for the events of the previous twelve hours to suffuse back into his consciousness.

He'd driven Julia home, seen her to the door and politely refused the offer of coffee. He should probably call her, try to reassure her he hadn't given her the brush off. He couldn't help it. He hadn't expected Carter to be in the bar, confusing things.

He liked Julia. She was exactly the right mix of toughness and glamour; not one of those girls he suspected Carter had been, who played baseball with the guys and damn well beat them, who'd never owned a Barbie but had stolen all of her brother's Action Men and who could fire P-90 to hit a target with deadly accuracy in the dark. Julia hadn't played baseball, but she'd never been a cheerleader either. She couldn't shoot a P-90 but she could handle herself in a situation. She walked the middle line, never compromising on hardiness and never compromising on femininity. She reminded O'Neill of his wife.

So why had the sight of Carter and her boyfriend in the bar sent him reeling?

Growling in frustration, he rolled out of bed and hit the shower, his universal cure for almost all ills, followed by beer.

* * *

Carter tapped her ID card thoughtfully against her thumb as the elevator began its descent towards the heart of Cheyenne Mountain. Monday mornings in any other job were the cause of mild depression, song writing, or throwing a sickie.

Monday mornings at the SGC meant briefings for the first mission of the week; always an exciting prospect.

The place seemed crawling with activity this particular Monday, like an anthill stirred with a stick. She walked to her lab, in the mind to finish one or two experiments abandoned on Friday before their briefing at ten o'clock.

She look up to see a man, hands in pockets, framed in the doorway. For a moment her heart leapt, and then she looked properly and saw it was Daniel.

"You ready for the briefing with our wonderful leader?"

She nodded. "Is it time already?" She always lost track of the hour when she was working in the lab. They set off to pick up Teal'c.

O'Neill was waiting for them. Briefings with him were, it had to be said, a little different to how they had been with Hammond. Perhaps it was because SG-1 was O'Neill's favourite team; the one he knew so well.

"Morning campers," he said, smiling at them all in turn. His gaze rested for a brief second too long on Colonel Carter. "Nice and easy one for you today. MALP shows P3X-907 has ruins which you should enjoy poking around, Danny, and there's some unusual energy readings for the Colonel to check out. Keep 'em out of trouble T," he said, with a grin in Carter's direction as she bristled at the insinuation she couldn't look after what was now _her_ team. "SG-1, you have a go."

He paused for a moment.

"That still sounds weird," he confessed.

Laughing, they set off for the locker room.

* * *

A prickle of unease settled at the base of Carter's spine as soon as SG-1 stepped through the 'gate on P3X-907. The planet was quiet. _Too _quiet. Carter immediately slipped the safety off her weapon with a practised thumb and scanned the treeline, noting Teal'c was doing the same. Even Daniel was looking around himself, barrel of his gun raised, face grim.

"It's too quiet," he said.

Carter nodded. "No birds."

"No _anything_."

"The silence is indeed disturbing."

Carter sighed. She could imagine the look on O'Neill's face if they 'gated straight home, and when asked why, said it was 'too quiet.'

"Come on," she said, motioning with her gun towards the ruins, "Let's get this over and done with and head home."

The ruins were hauntingly familiar; certainly not Ancient or Go'auld in design. There was a depressing humanity to them, the remnants of what on closer inspection appeared to be steel girders, brickwork and broken spars. There were no writings for Daniel to investigate as they moved through them.

"This was a town," Daniel observed, and she nodded. A town now reclaimed by the countryside that apparently surrounded it; buildings now moss and grass covered rubble, everything covered in a fine layer of earth or rust.

"You know what this looks like?" Carter said suddenly, realising what had been niggling at her mind.

"What?"

"It looks like something of enormous explosive power was detonated here. The buildings were razed to the ground and then covered with earth. Now things have grown on that earth."

"Several years worth of growth," Daniel noted, pointing out a tree which, whilst not being a tall and weather oak, was certainly no longer a sapling.

"An aerial bombardment?" Teal'c suggested.

Carter shook her head. "I don't think so. Look at the way the buildings have collapsed inwards. To me that suggests the explosion ripped through them at ground level. Maybe it was even planted inside."

Daniel shrugged. "You can make anything out of this mess."

"There are no bodies," Teal'c remarked, "No skeletons."

"Depends on the power of the device used. They could have been vaporised," Carter replied and he nodded in accordance.

"Have you identified where that energy signal is being emitted from?" Daniel asked.

Carter pulled out her monitor. "There," she said, pointing to a large mound of loosely covered rubble.

The movement was so swift they had no time to react to it before it was still once more. Carter's head snapped round. "Did you feel that?" she whispered.

Daniel, the whites of his eyes showing, nodded.

"We should leave," Teal'c said.

"With you on that one," Carter said fervently. "Move out."

They hurried back to the 'gate, not daring to break into a run but jogging seeming far to slow. The silence that had been unsettling was now downright menacing.

"Dial us up," she instructed to Daniel, fear making the words clipped.

Daniel dialled at maximum speed, as if they were under fire rather than standing in a rather pleasant meadow on an apparently deserted planet.

Carter had just enough time to yell as the lightening fast burst of silvery movement shot out from the tree line. There was no shape to it as it rushed past them at unfathomable speed.

Carter dropped to her knees, hearing Daniel shout as the 'gate initiated. The images were flashing before her eyes.

_Cassie- _

_- Pete- _

_-the bar- _

_- her lab - _

_- the id card tapping against her thumb- _

_-a cup of blue jello and a spoon- _

_A brightly painted nail._

_The general, his eyes filled with worry._

_A kiss._

She opened her eyes to find herself lying on the ramp, apparently having been carried through the 'gate by Teal'c.

"Close the iris!" she yelled at exactly the same moment as Daniel, their voices filled with icy fear.

O'Neill's face was grave. "What happened?" he snapped into the control room microphone.

"I don't know sir," Carter said, regaining her feet and trying to shake off sudden dizziness_. _"I _think _we were attacked by something but... I don't know what." She felt weak, like she was suffering from a bad bout of flu and was still fighting the fever. She was sweating, she realised, her fringe soaked with perspiration and her limbs were shaking. "I think I should go the infirmary," she said.

No one noticed the knuckles of O'Neill hand, clutching the microphone stalk, go white. He nodded. "Go. All of you," he said, his voice now tempered with well controlled-worry. She nodded, grateful, and let Daniel take her arm and help her to the ministrations of Doctor Smith.

* * *

Carter had never found the infirmary beds particularly conductive to sleep. They were too soft; she spent too much time sleeping on the ground to be comfortable in them. The sheets smelt to unfamiliar and she was fretting.

Doctor Smith, a good foot taller than her predecessor and five or six years younger; a woman who would have been beautiful if it weren't for her icy bedside manner, had crisply informed the Colonel that she was confined to her bed. Her feverish symptoms had evaporated hours ago and her blood samples were clean, but Doctor Smith had still forbidden her to leave the infirmary. Bored senseless, Carter was beginning to wonder if the Doctor didn't find a cause would she ever be let out?

"Knock knock," said someone behind the curtains drawn around her bed.

She smiled in spite of herself. "You can come in sir."

General O'Neill sidled in, his fingers to his lips in a theatrical gesture of quiet. "Daniel's distracting the Ice Queen. I bought you a present."

She was expecting a cup of jello, but it was in fact a book.

"Where'd you get this from?" she asked, "And that's not a very nice way to refer to Doctor Smith."

"Daniel coined the name," he said, shrugging unashamed. "The book was from your lab. It was hidden under some files so I guessed it was your current reading material."

"You guessed right," she said, feeling pleased.

"Oh, I've 'phoned Cassie and she's coming back to my place. I'll make sure she gets fed. Just on my way home now," he explained.

"Thanks," she said, feeling the knots of tension in her shoulders loosen as her mind was set at ease.

"Anytime," he said, looking away as was his custom when embarrassed by the gratitude he neither expected nor sought. Approaching footsteps heralded the return of Doctor Smith. He looked guilty. "I'd better go. See you in the morning. Sleep well Carter."

"You too sir."

He mouthed 'bye' and disappeared through the curtains. She lay back on her pillows, opening the book.

With any luck Doctor Smith would finally give up looking for a cause of her feverish outburst and clear her for duty tomorrow and she could get on with work.

With any luck.


	3. Sad Song

"Hey Cass," O'Neill said as he pushed his way into his home. In contrast to Carter's well ordered house, his own dwelling was a chaotic; in the middle of a major redecoration. Cassie was reading in the living room.

"Hey," she returned, "How's Sam?"

"Oh, I think she's fine. The new CMO is just a bit...zealous," he said and then cursed himself for sticking his foot straight in his mouth.

"It's okay," Cassie said, seeing his expression. "I know you had to replace mom..."

The silence ballooned and Cassie's eyes seemed for a second overbright. Instinctively O'Neill crossed the distance between her and squeezed her skinny shoulder. She hugged him in a way vaguely reminiscent of his son, waking from a nightmare and seeking comfort in the arms of his father. When they drew apart her eyes were not the only pair misty with held-back tears.

He sat down in his favourite chair, picking up the television remote. "How does pizza sound?" he asked.

"Great," Cassie sniffed. He turned on the television and the phone rang.

"Hello?" he said, realised he was talking to the remote control, shot his giggling charge a quelling glance and picked up the 'phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Jack. It's Julia."

He smiled. "Hi Julia."

"You want to go out tonight?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"Er," O'Neill said, looking at Cassie, who was making 'go ahead' signals with her hand. "Er, I'm sorry Julia but I have to look after Cassie again tonight. I was going to order in a pizza."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed and he berated himself for giving her the brush off again. "Well, I'd be very selfish if I tried to persuade you to do otherwise. Say hi to Cassie from me and... well, you can call me if you want to meet up again."

"I will," he said, meaning it.

"G'night Jack."

"G'night Julia."

The click of her hanging up on him sounded very loud in his ear. Cassie was looking irritated. "Why aren't you going out?"

"I went out last night."

"So, what, you can only go out once a week?"

"No..."

"You saw Sam out last night with Pete, didn't you?"

It was pointless to deny it. "Yeah."

"And Julia obviously didn't come back here, judging by the state of the place and as she rang you up to invite you out again, I'm surmising you didn't spend the night at her place."

"Yeah," he replied, trying to look casually confused by Cassie's line of questioning.

Cassie sighed and gave him a withering look. "I wish you two would sort yourselves out," she said. "It's enough to make me scream. You're worse than_ me_ and my friends. And that's saying something."

"Cassie..."

"That's what Sam does when I start giving my opinion on you pair," she informed him, starting to grin.

"Cassie, you _know_ it's illegal for me to have a relationship with Carter, don't you?"

"Yes I know," she replied, rolling her eyes, "But you both pretend to move on and then get hung up when you see each other out with other people. It's incredibly annoying. Not to mention unfair on the people you think you're moving on _with_."

"Do you want this pizza or not?" he asked her, trying to change the subject.

With a scornful look that let him know she had seen right through his tactic she appeared to think for a moment. "I'll have a Hawaiian with extra pineapple. And a garlic bread. And some of those potato wedges. And get some Hagen Daaz. Sam always buys Ben and Jerry's and I don't like that as much."

He smiled and picked up the 'phone again to dial the pizza delivery people.

* * *

"This is your favourite film?" he asked, for the third time in complete disbelief.

"Yeah."

"_This_ is your favourite film?"

"Yeah. I think it's so... surreal. And funny."

"Does Carter like it?" he asked, suspiciously.

"No. She doesn't get it."

_That makes two of us_, he thought.

"So what's happening now?"

"Uh, Zidler is trying to convince the Duke that Satine's confessing."

He watched in silence for a moment as the magic of _Moulin Rouge _unfolded. "Why are there extremely camp men with plates of jello singing 'Like A Virgin?'"

"Just enjoy the film Jack," Cassie told him.

He managed to keep quiet until the end credits.

"Well, that was depressing."

Cassie nodded, "But it's a great film, don't you think?"

"Yes," he said, with the special O'Neill infliction that meant very definitely no.

"Thanks," Cassie said after he had retrieved the DVD from his player and placed it carefully back in its box.

"What for?" he asked, handing it back to her.

She sighed, looking troubled. "Being here. I know this isn't easy on you and Sam, suddenly gaining a daughter like this. I don't want to be a burden on you, either of you. And you... well, you've made it so _not awkward_. I was so afraid when mom died that it was going to be like living with a stranger because... well, I was close to Sam but I was never certain if you still liked me now I've grown up into such an annoying teenager-"

"Cassie," he said, interrupting her, "I've always felt, if not like a father, like a favourite uncle to you. I...I think you're growing up to be an amazing young woman. We're all very proud of you. And... you lost a parent. I lost a child. Having you around is... " He lacked the words to say, but she understood, perhaps better than anyone else. There was a bond between herself and O'Neill that ran deep, built on understanding of grief. She and Sam shared the experience of losing their mother far earlier than they should have, but with O'Neill she could see the flip side of her sad coin.

"Thanks Jack," she murmured again, grabbing her pot of Hagen Daaz and spooning some of the ice cream into her mouth in a desperate attempt not to cry.

* * *

The infirmary was quiet at this late hour, the squeak of a nurse's pumps the only sound apart from the breathing of various sleeping patients. Doctor Smith pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to refocus on the slide under her microscope. Her eyes were blurred with tiredness, but with a tenacity uncannily similar to that displayed by Sam Carter when she was trying to solve a puzzle presented by an alien device, she refused to sleep until she got some answers.

A soft moan made her look up sharply from the microscope. Someone was whimpering in pain. As she stood up to investigate the source of the noise the alarm on a heart monitor began to sound.

Only one patient was wearing a monitor and Doctor Smith ran to Colonel Carter's bedside, glad she had possessed the foresight to attach the woman to one before she slept. The Colonel's heart was racing, she was convulsing and crying out now in agony.

"Nurse!" the doctor shouted.

_It was pain beyond imagining, the whip cracking across her back, the skin already broken. They were flaying her alive, she couldn't bear the pain for much longer and she screamed-- _

_--The thorn of the rosebush sank into her thumb. "Ow!" She placed the bleeding finger in her mouth_-

_--Confusion. These memories were not her own. What were they doing in her head?-- _

_--The ashrak! The ashrak was torturing her, he would kill her! Every fibre of her being screamed for an end to the agony; Jolinar screaming with her- _

_--The staff weapon hit her in the back of the knees and she stumbled to the floor, biting her tongue. Blood filled her mouth-- _

_--O'Neill. He was pulling away from Julia, obviously having just kissed her. She looked_ _ridiculously coy, eyelashes fluttering as she looked downwards at the floor_-

"Mine!" she snarled, opening her eyes.

Doctor Smith stood over her. "Yours?" she asked, confused.

Carter was soaked in cold sweat, every muscle in her body aching as if they had been cramping. "What happened?" she asked weakly, trying to forget the word she had just spoken.

"I think you had a fit. You were screaming."

Carter shook her head muzzily. "I was... reliving Jolinar's memories. Happens sometimes..."

"And you convulse?" Doctor Smith asked, unsatisfied. "Sometimes," Carter admitted, although it hadn't happened for years.

Doctor Smith pursed her lip, looking unconvinced. "Get some rest," she instructed, her voice softening just a little.

"What do you think I was trying to do?" Carter muttered, inaudible as the doctor left her to sleep again.

* * *

O'Neill sighed, putting his head in his hands. He had lost a file. Again. It happened with depressing frequency. Gilmor, his administrative aide, was going to _kill_ him.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," he said, frowning with puzzlement. He hadn't sent for anyone and he had no appointments with any SG staff.

It was Carter. "Sir," she said.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. He had popped into the infirmary at about nine o'clock but the Colonel had still been asleep. Doctor Smith was still steadfastly refusing to clear her for duty and she looked like being base-bound for a night, if not sleeping in the infirmary again.

"Better," she said, "I just came to check that Cassie was okay at yours last night."

"She was fine. We watched _Moulin Rouge._"

A pained look crossed Carter's face. "Again? What did you think of it?"

"The same as you," he informed her and she smiled.

"You don't mind her staying while I'm-?"

"Of course not. Oh," he coughed, "Pete 'phoned. Cassie told him you were stuck on base. I was surprised you hadn't 'phoned him yourself..."

He instantly regretted his words, but the curiosity had been in the forefront of his mind.

She goggled at him for a moment, shocked by his comment and also wondering herself why she hadn't 'phoned Pete. In honesty, she had been too busy worrying about Cassie to think about anything else. Pete knew that sometimes she was stuck on the base.... but all the same.

"I'm sorry," O'Neill said, his face unusually red. "That was inappropriate."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter sir." She felt dizzy again.

"Are you alright?" O'Neill asked.

She opened her mouth to tell him everything was fine and felt her knees buckle. Catching herself on the edge of his desk she shook her head; the dizziness threatening to consume her.

O'Neill had already leapt up from his chair and as she fainted he caught her in his arms. There was a flash of silvery shadows she dimly registered as he grabbed her, then her eyesight faded and she knew no more.


	4. She Has No Time

_She was eight years old, blowing the candles that decorated her cake out. "Make a wish Sam!-- _

_--She was eleven years old, running home to the farmhouse through the fields of rippling cereals- _

_-He was thirteen, enjoying his first kiss-- _

_--She was petting her dog-- _

_-She was eighteen, graduating from highschool. There were mortarboards in the air- _

_-She held the crystal device in her hands, the thrill of making it work- _

_These memories were not all her own. She recognised some of them as Jolinar's, but where had the image of the farm come from? She had never owned a dog..._

_Where am I?_

_Why am I here?_

_What's _happening _to me?_

_A voice spoke. Not her own._

_I AM HERE._

_Confusion. She could feel the insidious presence sliding into her body as if it were a coat. Not Go'auld. Not anything she had ever encountered before. Different. It made thinking hard. It was inside _her_, in her mind. Not like Go'auld, or Tok'ra. They simply took the body, the mind was intact and alone, simply unable to make the body respond. This was in her _mind_, erasing who she was, taking it for itself. When it did she knew with absolute clarity she would die._

_She opened her mouth to scream but there was no longer a mouth to open; it didn't belong to her anymore._

_NO. I ONLY WISH TO LEARN._

_What? she asked, weakly. _

_IDENTITY._

Sam Carter opened her eyes, mouth open in a silent scream. She was lying in her bed at home, drenched in cold sweat and her heart hammering. She lay rigid for a moment and then forced herself to relax, muscle by muscle. She snuggled into her pillow, trying to recall the nightmare. It had drained away, like water through fingers.

For a moment a terrible panic washed over her. Why was she in her bed at home? She remembered collapsing in the General's office; how had she ended up home--?

The thought dissipated, the sense of comfortable drowsiness returning forcefully. Something was forcing her mind away from that thought and she was content to let it. Indeed, she couldn't remember thinking it. Of course she was home. It was Saturday.

_Sam! Sam, you've got to concentrate! You must-_

She blinked, her head cocked to one side as she heard the discord. And then it was gone again.

She dragged herself out of the bed, the sheets tangled as if she had been thrashing about in her sleep. She entered her bathroom, turning on the shower, giving it a brief second to warm up as she took off her bedclothes, and then stepping under the jet of hot water.

Last night had been a complete washout. She was mildly annoyed at herself for crying before she fell asleep. This morning she felt...curiously empty now she had left the comfort of her bed, Every time she thought of Jack and Julia her stomach twisted as she calmly rubbed shower gel into her arms. And every time she thought of Pete the overwhelming sense of guilt returned. It wasn't fair! It made her so angry!

_--she gave her husband a ringing slap, still shocked he had the audacity to suggest-- _

_--they broke into his house and they stole his only-- _

_--it made her so angry!-- _

_--God, he was going to kill them if he caught them-- _

_--tear them limb from limb-- _

_--Go'auld scum!-- _

She shook her head, trying to remember what she had been thinking, her hand holding the bottle of shower gel in mid air. The thought obviously lost, she continued to wash.

_Inside, someone screamed with anger._

She tried to pull herself together. Cassie would be home from Sofia's soon. But her brain seemed to be locked in a cycle of thought. Jack. Julia. Pete. JackJuliaPete... She leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of the shower, and hating herself for being so weak, started to cry again.

_--It was broken. It was his favourite toy and it was broken-- _

_--Niles, the farm dog. He had always been her favourite. The sweetest natured of all of them. And now he was dead-- _

_--Her mother was gone. And nothing could bring her back, nothing could ever fill this emptiness--_

_--He was leaving her. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do-- _

* * *

O'Neill dried himself off, trying to think about nothing at all, especially not Carter, and achieving astonishing success. Maybe he could watch something on the TV. _The Simpsons_ sounded appealing. If it wasn't on he could always watch a video.

A good plan. He dressed himself, decided to forget shaving and went downstairs. He wasn't hungry enough for breakfast yet. He flicked the TV on. _The Simpsons_ wasn't on, but he pushed the video half out of his player back in. The screen flickered and Homer appeared on the screen, sitting on his couch.

He laughed. _The Simpsons_ was true comic genius.

_--she was laughing so hard her ribs ached-- _

_--it was so funny-- _

_--he probably shouldn't laugh but the hilarity of the situation-- _

_--is it immature to laugh at bodily noises? Ah, who cares-- _

Sudden panic set in. Why was he watching television at home? He had been in his office. Carter! She'd...

The panic faded, replaced with a vague calm.

_Jack, you're an ass._

"Hello?" he asked, curiosity aroused and temporarily overriding that enforced calmness. "Is there someone there?"

_Oh, for cryin' out loud. I'm you. You've got to get to the SGC..._

The thought faded.__

He was in his kitchen. Why was he in his kitchen? Christ, old age was creeping up on him, he couldn't even remember walking in here...

Breakfast, he decided. The world would seem a more normal place when he had eaten something.

* * *

_It bounced from consciousness to consciousness, searching desperately for something new, a different experience. The key. It must be careful not to push too hard. These minds were strong, they resisted, but they were not able to overcome Its manipulation. Like all the other beings they would undoubtably die when It grew bored and pressed too deeply into their minds, taking them for Its own, not finding what It was looking for and leaving, carrying on the search._

_And the body cannot live without the mind. _

_Yes. They would die like all the others. It was inevitable, if things continued in this manner. But a whole world was open to It once again! Billions of people! One of them, It knew, would hold the key. They must._

* * *

_Jack! This isn't real! This never happened! STOP!_

They were dancing, cheek to cheek, like he had occasionally dreamed of. Her dress brushed the carpet, hiding the exquisite and damn expensive bridal shoes, but that was rather the point. The music was ending, the dance was nearly over and he knew he must relinquish her back to the man who was now her legally wedded husband.

But for the moment he clung to her; unwilling to let her go quite yet. He had always known, in his heart of battered hearts, that she would move on. Stop caring about him more than she was supposed to.

He had to know. He had to ask, otherwise he'd spend the rest of his days wondering.

"Carter?" he whispered in her ear.

"What?" she murmured, voice muffled by his shoulder.

"If..."He couldn't believe he was actually asking the question. "If things had been different. If I'd resigned or... something. Could this... Could this have been us?"

There was a long pause, drawn out over the dying cadence of the song.

"Yes."

A strange feeling seemed to burst in chest, a mixture of absolute joy and devastating bereavement. She loved him! And yet she had left him.

_--how could he love someone who hurt him like this?-- _

_--death is not the end. He must remember this. She has gone to a better place-- _

_--I miss him-- _

_Jack! You have to get to the SGC!_

The dance was over. He let her go. "Congratulations Sam," he said, his voice broken.

A single tear was tracing a meandering course down her cheek as she nodded her thanks to him. He turned away, a broken man. He felt the desperate need to get away from this place. Somewhere, anywhere, would be better than here.

_The SGC._

How long had it been since he had been there? He couldn't remember. He had work to finish. Work. Always a good method of distracting himself. He would go to his office and catch up on paperwork.

_Yes!!_

* * *

I know this chapter doesn't make a lot of sense... but stay with me. All will be revealed. Thanks for all the kind reviews! --Lunar 


	5. Can't Stop Now

_Sam. Don't listen to him! It's not real. You have to get to the SGC!!_

She opened the door. General O'Neill stood there; hands in pockets. "Come in," she said.

He shook his head, meeting her puzzled gaze sadly.

_Christ! Look at his eyes Sam! He's not _real_!_

His eyes were black, like the dead eyes of a shark, the hazel colour of his irises replaced. As soon as she had perceived the wrongness, the thought disappeared.

_Arrgh!!_

"Carter. I've resigned. I... I've decided to get married to Julia. We're moving to live in Minnesota. You're being promoted to General."

"You're leaving?" Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She felt dizzy and gripped the door frame by surprised, surprised herself by her reaction.

He nodded.

"Sir.. Jack. I don't know what to say..."

_--she had lost him forever--_

_--he said he'd never leave!-- _

_--he knew, in his heart of hearts why she was going. He'd hurt her too much; she had to move on be dragged down by this unrequited love- _

"Congratulations, I guess," she added, feeling like she was about to cry.

O'Neill didn't look much happier. "I'm sorry Carter," he said softly. "I wish I could stay. But... I have to move on now. Or..."

She nodded, a lump rising in her throat. "Keep in touch," she said fiercely.

"I will."

And then he was gone, walking away down her drive and who knew when she would see him again? He belonged to another now...

She sat down, too shocked to cry, and tried to collect her thoughts. Promotion to General? She would be in charge of the SGC... She put her head in her hands and tried to think straight. She should go to the base, start tying up loose ends there. Anything to distract herself. It seemed like ages since she had been to mountain, but obviously she must have visited it recently...

She put on her coat and stepped outside into glorious afternoon sunshine.

_Thank God._

* * *

_It was panicked. Something had gone wrong. They were resisting! They were finding a way back! This wasn't right. It couldn't stop them! _

O'Neill stood silent in the elevator, watching the numbers flash as he descended to his office. He felt nervous, on edge. Every muscle in his body was tensed, sensing and preparing for attack. Which was ridiculous. He was in the SGC, for cryin' out loud. He did this everyday, this was _work._

The door of the elevator opened and his sense of unease grew. The SGC was normally bustling with activity any time of the day or night, there were simply too many people doing too many things for any corridor to be completely deserted for any real length of time. He stood still, waiting. He timed five minutes on his watch. No one came past the door. No noises echoed along the corridor, no stamp of booted feet. No one tried to call the elevator from another floor.

He stepped forward, extremely worried now, intending to head to his office and the embarkation room.

Every hair on his body stood on edge as he passed through and invisible, crackling energy barrier of some nature. He fell to his knees in the corridor as the rushing realisation struck him, yelling in pain. Lights blinked on and off in front of his eyes as he clutched at his head, trying to fight off the sensation that he was two separate people.

Behind him the elevator hummed into life, heading back upwards. He remained on his knees for an incalculable amount of time, until the clank of machinery heralded the return of the elevator. He heard the door open and someone stepped forward.

Carter fell to her knees beside him. "Oh my God," he heard her murmur, voice more terrified than he had ever heard.

"Carter?" he said, releasing his head at last and turning to her.

She couldn't answer him, holding her head as he had, repeating over and over like a mantra, "No, no, no, not again."

He prodded her. There was no response. He shook her shoulders gently, and the more firmly. She turned to him at last her eyes filled with pain and worry.

"Sir?"

"Yeah," he said.

"This can't be happening."

He nodded. "I know."

"Oh God."

He stayed on his knees, holding her shoulder until he reached a decision. "On your feet Carter."

She responded unthinkingly, obedient to her military training. "Look, we need to get out of this situation. However... weird and horrible it is... we have to find a way out. I need you. Calm down. Let's just _think_ about this."

She nodded, drawing in a deep breath.

_Stick to what you know. _

The first rule of finding yourself in an unknown and potentially dangerous situation. It was a rule O'Neill had found himself following on many separate occasions.

What _did_ he know?

The last clear memory he had was of catching a swooning Carter in his office. As she folded up he had grabbed her arms. There had been a flash of silver, so fast his eyes couldn't follow the movement. After that he couldn't be certain. He _thought_ he remembered hitting the corner of his desk as he fell to the floor himself, but the lack of throbbing pain in his arm suggested the memory might be false.

There were other memories, but they were vague and he didn't want to focus on them.

"What's happened?" he asked gently, looking her in the eyes.

She took a deep breath. "I was infected with an alien parasite on P3X-907," she said slowly, striving to keep her voice calm.

"And now it's in me as well," he said, more a statement of fact than a question.

She nodded anyway. "It's... it's not alive in the normal sense. It lives through other creature's minds. Not like a Goa'auld, it actually becomes part of the host mind... That's how I know this..."

"Because in the same way that it can read our minds, we can read its mind?"

She shook her head, understanding finally dawning. "It wants an identity of its own, and its trying to find the concept of personification in human minds. But it hasn't, as yet, and if it takes over a host mind entirely, the host dies. That's why P3X-907 was deserted. It killed everything. But it doesn't mean to," she added quickly, not sure why the detail was so important but knowing it should be said.

"I know."

"The... other memories we have. Not those from your office. That's the method of interface it has developed with hosts. It takes over the higher brain functions and gives the host mind scenarios to react to, so it can study them."

"So why, when we came here, did we find ourselves free of it? I remember...another me. Telling me to come here."

She nodded. "This is our subconscious mind. The part of us that is truly _us_. The bit it can't enter without killing us. Funny, how it should be the SGC," she mused.

"And now we're here...?"

She shrugged. "It will come for us. It's been in so many minds and no-one has ever made it this far before. It thinks we're special. It'll come here because it thinks we hold the key to giving it identity."

Identity was the wrong word, she thought, it was the creature's word for what it wanted and it wasn't the right one. She understood that It lived through others, but It didn't intend to harm them. It wanted the ability to experience things for itself, but It didn't know how.

"If we can teach it how to experience things for itself, will it let us go?" O'Neill asked, apparently, sharing the same thought.

"I don't know. Can you think of a way to teach it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "We should explore."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I just feel we should."

"Fair enough."

* * *

She followed him through the corridors, poking their head round various doors which inevitably lead to empty rooms.

Growing weary of exploration they headed towards the commissary, although neither of them knew why, because they were in no need of nourishment.

Carter gasped in shock as they opened the door. Teal'c was at the table in the middle of the room, surrounded by cups of blue jello.

"Samantha!" he said happily, and most unlike himself, as they entered.

O'Neill nudged her. "I think this is from your mind."

She nodded, taking a seat opposite the Jaffa. "Hey Teal'c."

"Hello." He continued to eat the jello, loading up spoonful after spoonful and swallowing them as quickly as possible as if determined to finish an apparently never-ending supply.

She frowned. "I thought you didn't like the blue flavour? I thought you liked green."

Teal'c gave her a piercing look and nodded solemnly. "Yes, I prefer the green. But it is unobtainable." He pointed towards a self-service fridge which was stocked with cup after cup of green jello.

She laughed, face creased with a frown of confusion. "Teal'c, all you have to do it open the door..." She demonstrated, but the Jaffa ignored her, concentrating entirely on the jello.

O'Neill touched her shoulder. "Come on," he said, "I think that's all you're going to get out of him."

Filled with renewed desire after finding Teal'c they continued their search of the corridors. They stopped outside the gymnasium, someone could be heard working out inside.

O'Neill stuck his head round the door and then leapt backwards as if he had been stung. "Something from me," he said gruffly, and Carter could have sworn he was blushing, "Not important."

"Who is it?" she asked, trying to peer around him.

"Um,"he said, and in his moment of confusion she seized the doorknob and peered through the doorway.

"Oh," she said shocked as he closed the door again. She couldn't let the moment pass without further comment. "I have to wonder sir, which part of your mind a naked Uma Thurman lifting weights is representative of--"

"Shut up Carter."

"Yes sir." They moved onwards, O'Neill uncharacteristically quiet. "It could have been worse," Carter said after they tried another door. "It could have been Mary Steenburgen."

"Shut up."

"Yes sir."


	6. Bedshaped

Carter dozed uneasily in O'Neill's office chair. Sleep seemed to be the only basic human need respected by the mind, hunger and thirst and the desire to use the bathroom not ever experienced. She knew O'Neill was watching her and the thought was comforting.

They daren't sleep together. As in, at the same time, not any other sense. She smiled at the thought. It could reach them, when they dreamed; so when the person left awake judged the sleeper had slept enough, the woke them, dragging them back.

She was nearly asleep when he spoke.

"I'm sorry Carter."

She didn't reply, sensing he was only speaking because he thought she was asleep.

He continued, proving her right. "I've tried to stop caring so much."

She felt moved to speak. "I know."

He jumped, looking guilty, as she opened one eye. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was. Nearly."

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

An awkward silence descended. "For the record sir, I have too."

The silence took on an aura of shock. Normally O'Neill would have stopped the conversation here and now, but he was trapped in his own subconscious mind, and if you couldn't be honest there, where could you be? And whilst he hadn't given up hope entirely, their survival prospects were looking severely limited.

"I haven't succeeded," he confessed.

She nodded. "I've been thinking about what Teal'c said," she informed him, voice still cracked with tiredness.

"What about it?"

"It's about you and Pete, I think. The whole Jello issue."

O'Neill froze. This was being honest with a vengeance! "Don't ask me for a detailed analysis of Uma," he said in reply, still puzzled as to why that particular image would be so crucial to his psyche, and slightly horrified by it.

She chuckled. "Repressed sexual tension."

O'Neill's mind underlined its' previous comment. "Carter...?"

"Sir?"

"Does Cassie keep-?"

"Yes! She does it to you as well? I'm not surprised." Carter cut in, waking up fully and smiling at him, amused.

"I'm trying to deal with things," he said, "But it's hard."

"I like Julia," Carter said sadly, "She seems nice."

"I like Pete," he returned stoutly.

The pause was too long.

"You know what I hate?" she said, changing the topic of conversation wisely. "When I get flashes of other hosts's memories, memories of the same emotion that I'm feeling."

He nodded, the silence descending on them again.

She settled back in his chair and fell asleep.

* * *

"CARTER!"

"Whuh?" she said, waking up.

O'Neill stopped shaking her, his face very red from shouting. "You awake?"

She nodded. "Uh, yeah, just about."

"You were shouting in your sleep."

"I was?" Realisation hit her. "Yes! I was! Sir, I think I know how we can get out of here."

"How?"

"Dial up the creature's home planet. You see I was dreaming and I realised that--" She stopped when she saw his expression.

"Dial up P3X-907?"

"Yes sir. I think that planet it representative of the creature's own subconscious mind. That way we can reason with it without it being able to control us."

"Reason with it?" He sounded doubtful.

"What else are we going to do sir?" she asked and he nodded.

"Dial it up."

* * *

They stepped through the 'gate together, O'Neill feeling hideously unprepared without a weapon, but the armoury in the SGC was empty.

P3X-907 was exactly as Carter remembered, the feeling of hush just as oppressive.

"We know you're here!" she called out, more bravely than she felt.

There was a rippling silvery flash and before her, forming from curling silver smoke, something humanoid.

She sensed O'Neill tensing beside her and touched his arm for a second with a placating hand.

_HOW ARE YOU HERE?_

"I'm not sure," Carter replied.

_THAT'S NOT A VERY HELPFUL ANSWER_

"It's the truth."

_YOU WANT TO HELP ME?_

"Yes," Carter answered.

"Speak for yourself," O'Neill muttered.

_YOU CANNOT. NO ONE CAN. I AM... ALONE._

"Why?"

_BECAUSE I ONLY EXPERIENCE LIFE THROUGH OTHER BEINGS. MY PRESENCE DESTROYS THEM. EITHER I BREAK THEIR MINDS OR THEIR PHYSICAL FORM WITHERS AS THEY LIVE WITHIN THEIR OWN MINDS._

"Let Carter go," O'Neill said suddenly. "Let her out and you can have me as a host."

_YOU WOULD SACRIFICE YOUR LIFE FOR HERS?_

"Yes."

"Sir, you can't," Carter murmured.

"I can and I am," he replied.

_THAT OFFER IS PLEASING. I AM MINDED TO ACCEPT._

"Sir!"

"Carter, go home."

"You can't do this!"

"I just did."

"No," she said, tears spilling now from overloaded eyes. "No." She turned to the creature. "Let him go. I'll stay. You chose my mind originally."

_THAT IS TRUE._

"Carter!" O'Neill snapped. "You can't-"

"I just did," she snapped back.

"I am your commanding officer!"

"Not here," she said in reply, "This is a world we, the three of us, generate. And I don't want you to be my CO here."

"Carter... That doesn't make any sense..."

She laughed, a cackle that danced with insanity. "Nothing here does."

_WHY IS IT THAT YOU WOULD SACRIFICE YOUR LIFE FOR THAT OF THE OTHER? _

"Because that's the people we are," Carter replied.

_YOUR IDENTITY COMES FROM THE CHOICES YOU MAKE?_

"Yes," said Carter, seizing the opportunity. "You have a choice too. You can chose to leave us."

_BUT THEN I WILL NOT EXPERIENCE. THERE WILL BE NO ME._

"Why?"

_THAT IS THE WAY IT ALWAYS IS. THERE WILL SIMPLY BE THE INSTINCT TO TAKE ANOTHER HOST. LIKE ANY OTHER PARASITE. BUT I AM FLAWED. I CANNOT CO-EXIST. I DESTROY._

"Let me see if I've got this right," Carter said slowly. "You only gain the power of independent thought when you take human hosts?"

_YES_

"When you take a host you have identity?"

_YES_

"You exist independently in this place," she said, gesturing at the world around them.

_YES. WHAT IS YOUR POINT?_

"Can't the instinct take this mind?"

"What?" O'Neill asked, confused.

"The part of you that feels compelled to take a host. Can't it take the mind that has been created by joining with us for its own?" she continued, still addressing the creature.

_I AM UNSURE._

"Can't you try?"

_THE THOUGHT HAS NEVER OCCURRED TO ME._

"But can you try?" O'Neill cut in.

_I CAN TRY. BUT WHO KNOWS WHAT THE EFFECTS MAY BE ON YOU? YOUR THOUGHTS ARE LINKED WITH MY OWN. I HAVE NEVER SEVERED SUCH A LINK... I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE CONSEQUENCES FOR YOU WOULD BE._

"They can't be worse than death," Carter said grimly. "Try."

* * *

She woke up. The infirmary ceiling swam into focus. She was alone in her own head. And she could remember everything.

"Sir?" she sat up.

He was in the cot next to her. "I'm here," he said.

"And you're you?" she asked.

"And I'm me. It's... gone."

"I think it worked."

"For the record," O'Neill said drowsily, "That's the weirdest thing I've ever done."

"Yes sir."

Doctor Smith glanced up at their voices, saw they were awake and practically ran over to their beds.

"You're awake!"

They exchanged a glance. Carter started to smile.


	7. Love Will Come Through

"See, this is a better class of film than _Moulin Rouge._"

"Shut up, Jack," Cassie said firmly.

"Yeah. Shut up sir," Carter said, giving him a dig in the ribs.

The remains of their takeaway still sat on the kitchen table, abandoned in favour of _Lord of the Rings._ Carter and O'Neill sat next to one another on his sofa, Cassie on the other chair, completely absorbed in the film.

Or possibly watching Orlando Bloom very intensely, it was hard to tell.

"We should do this more often," she said suddenly, making Carter jump guiltily as her head had been mere millimetres away from resting on O'Neill's shoulder.

"Yeah," O'Neill said, in definite accordance. Julia had 'phoned him earlier that night to tell him she was sorry, but it was over. He was exhibiting a disturbing lack of emotion over this development.

"Uh-huh," Carter added, sitting more upright in a firm attempt not to come dangerously close to breaking fraternisation regulations.

O'Neill took a malicious pleasure out of shifting his weight ever-so-slightly to his left, so the small gap Carter had created between them was obliterated. She didn't move again.

It wasn't perfect, he thought. But it didn't have to be permanent.

The weight of his resignation letter weighing firmly on his mind, he put his arm around her shoulders.


End file.
